Hausgemachte Video Skandal

Hausgemachte Video Skandal
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Emily could feel the heat growing between her bare legs, which she had wrapped around the quilts of her bed and hugged tightly with all four of her limbs.

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Her silver eyes gazed on out through the open window of her room; white shut-ins floating in the gentle breeze, giving her a view of the full moon against black sky. She began to rub herself, sighing softly as her mound began to grind against the material; soaking it with her sexual juices as she began to recount the tale of dashing, handsome outlaws that her grandmother had told her not an hour before.

He would be a brave bandit, tall and athletic with hair like farmyard straw and a sword in hand. The shining tip of his silver blade would be at her throat, then coolly tickling down into her plump, sensual cleavage, where her dress had tightened to lift her breasts for such an occasion. The sword's tip found her amulet, expensive and made of the purest gold jewels, and began to lift it from the protection of her bosom for his own eyes to see.

"My sweetest lady," he would say with a pause, "one should not travel with such beautiful possessions, for they risk sullying the beauty of their master." Emily moaned, hand sliding down her thigh, now moist with sweat. The outlaw would step forth, causing her to gasp as his warm hand delved to her bosom and took amulet from around her neck. She could not forget the feeling of his warm fingers against her chest.


"Wh-what do you intend to do now, good sir?" The damsel asked, her fearful voice shivering with the lightning of excitement; truly he had captured her.

At that moment, like no other, could she remember how alone they were upon the road, her carriage-guards slain in the undergrowth and her driver long-since fled.

"Might I ask, milady, why your husband would allow you to travel in the dark with so few soldiers standing for her protection, while the chest containing his taxes routinely boasts a force of fifty men, and ten locks to pry away the greedy hand of thieves?" "He values his coin more than my tender flesh," she whispered.

"'tis true," the man agreed, "'tis why such a man should never have gained a beauty such as you, when I, a man who would value the sweetness of your warmth more than all the riches of the world, is left to the coldness of nights alone." "Perhaps.

He might need be alone no longer," said she, legs weakening under his charm. But what was she doing?


What was she saying? Her husband. Her honour? The blade of the dashing man cut her dress cleanly away without ever harming her cold flesh. It fell away, revealing her naked form by the road side, nipples strongly perked like buds, her legs closing a little above the knees to help hide the soft tuft of fur that served only to compliment her womanhood.

When she realized what had happened, she gasped, and began to back away.

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"Good sir!" She pleaded, "we must not do this!" His smile warmed her like an open flame, and as he unbuttoned his shirt and removed it from his perfect, muscular visage, she realized her back had hit the carriage door. She looked away, hiding her blushing shame as he removed too the rest of his clothing, his member standing tall, proud and as delicious-looking as the most fine of desserts.

He made his way towards her, and she resisted no more. Her legs opening for him as he pushed her down into the carriage and slipped the head of his fleshy spear into the soft, moist mound of her genitalia. Then pushed himself inside her as they wound each other in one another's arms and made love vigorously into the night. Back to reality. Emily was moaning repeatedly. "Fuck me.

Fuck me.

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Fuck me! Mmn!" As her hand worked against her slippery, soaking pussy, her legs spread wide upon the bed and the quilts now covering up to her neck. She stared into the ceiling, her only thought on the dashing man in her fantasies. As he slammed his hard cock into the recesses of her fleshy cave and pumped rope after rope of hot, sticky, delicious cum into her womb! She raised her hips, her sole thought on the huge, imaginary dick fucking her into the bed and causing it to creak and bang rhythmically into the walls.

A moment later, her hand finally pressed tightly against her pussy. Her vocal cries of "Oh god yeeeees! Ahhhhh!" blissfully augmenting her orgasm.

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When it finally ended, she collapsed into an almost instant sleep, her hand held against her crotch and her sheets soaked with the mixed liquids of her sweat and pussy juices. And outside, a figure illuminated by the moon hid upon the balcony below her window, his head resting against the brick as the chorus of her moans filled his heart with glee, and his cock finished squirting semen into a pair of her panties.

The boy stood, slowly, his member hanging freely out as he climbed through her window as silently as a cat and observed her sleeping. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to climb under the covers and make love to her, but he could never dare do that to such a sleeping beauty, whose father was a wealthy merchant in Caprica City. She might have been alone right now.

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With only a deaf grandmother to accompany her in his small town, but he had to remember her relations and why he would be slain like a pig if a single foreign finger was placed upon her dainty skin. However, he couldn't simply leave her there without a token to show his feelings, and so he carefully rolled her cum-stained underwear into a ball and placed them gently besides her face.

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He spent a further minute watching her, then turned to make his exit. A strange smell roused her from her slumber.

And her hand grasped what seemed to be a warm, wet cloth placed at the tip of her nose. She lightly moaned, observing what she dreamt to be a strange figure climbing through her window and disappearing beyond the moon as she took the cloth down between her legs and sighed with a satisfied smile.

She giggled sheepishly, then began to rub the moist lips between her thighs with what she fantasized was a rag soaked in the semen of her lover.